


Quixotic Mission

by missblueeyes63



Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: Angst, Brotherhood, Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mission Fic, Protective Older Brothers, Sonny’s Fear of Jungles, Team as Family, Whump, Whump Blackburn, Whump Clay, Whump Jason, Whump Sonny, Whump Trent, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-07 17:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18877708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missblueeyes63/pseuds/missblueeyes63
Summary: Bravo team is sent into the jungle to capture an HVT ... everything appears to be going well ... too well ... until it isn't.This is the Q installment of Alphabet Injuries.





	1. Quills and Queasy

_**Jungle in Ecuador Near Border with Columbia** _

“QUILLS, FUCKING QUILLS!” Sonny griped as he lay flat on his stomach and the rest of the guys couldn’t help their snickers as Trent pulled porcupine quills from Quinn’s ass.

“Should watch where you drop your pants to take a dump. Could’ve been one of those freaking huge spiders biting your pale ass,” Ray teased as he guarded their blindfolded and bound HVT, allowing the man to sip from a water bottle while they rested.

“Who the hell knew these damned spiny bastards lived in a jungle?” Sonny grumbled.

“Well, they inhabit tropical and temperate parts of Asia, Southern Europe, Africa, and North and South America—”

“Rhetorical question, Clay-pedia! Shut the fuck up.” Sonny shifted and gritted his teeth as Trent pulled out another hooked barb. “OW! Fucking ow. Pull them out, but don’t rip my skin off in the process.”

“Big baby. Six never yelped when Four pulled out all those needles from his back and legs,” Brock teased as he kept watch to the south.

Taking pity on Sonny, well almost, Clay said, “Now, now, the Mighty Quill, I mean Quinn shouldn’t be the butt of our jokes … and besides I was drugged out of my mind at the time. But you boys need to pay up. I won the bet … ten quills before he screamed like a little girl.”

Sonny growled while Clay and the rest of Bravo chuckled.

Jason only shook his head, finding humor in the situation, but also worried Sonny would add one more thing to his list of phobias for the jungle. Though with the embarrassing nature of this, um, injury, he doubted Quinn would want this one documented.

Luckily, Quinn sitting on a poor, unsuspecting baby porcupine hiding in the heavy foliage where Sonny went to relieve himself, occurred after they acquired the HVT. Stopping for Trent to remove all the quills wouldn’t impede their exfil since they still had a full day’s hike through dense jungle to meet the helos.

Jason chuckled again as he caught the last part of a comment from Brock as their dog handler said, “So this proves the quill is mightier than the sword.”

Ray took the water from Porfirio Quirós, one of the top ten on the CIA’s capture list. His drug cartel shipped loads of cocaine and fully automatic weapons into the U.S., and they needed the man alive to interrogate him to identify the strategies he used to circumvent detection. The lax banter among the team, only occurred because Quirós didn’t speak English, if he comprehended the tongue, Clay wouldn’t have used Sonny’s last name.

On the converse … Clay was not the only one to speak Spanish now. Both he and Jason took an intensive Spanish language course after their previous disastrous mission in Ecuador. In fact, each of the guys picked two languages to learn from regions they typically operated in to ensure no one could force Clay on a mission solely because he was the only one to speak the language. It was one way they hoped to protect the kid.

Ray kept an eye on their prisoner as he moved closer to Jason to speak in a whisper, “Think Quinn’s gonna be in any condition to move as fast as we need?”

“We’ve got a little slack in our timeline before exfil. Sonny will push through. Might bitch like there is no tomorrow but he is one hard-core SEAL so he won’t slow down.” Jason wiped the accumulated sweat from his forehead. “Four, how much longer?”

Trent yanked out the last quill. “Just need to slather on some antibiotic cream, and I’m done.”

“Give it to me … I’ll do it. Don’t need your hands rubbing all over my ass,” Sonny grumbled as he stood.

“Hey … no problem … don’t want to be touching your backside any more than you want me to.” Trent tossed Sonny the ointment and then packed up his supplies.

Once Quinn finished, he shoved the tube of triple antibiotic cream in his pants pocket. He pulled up his pants and glared at his brothers. “Not one word outta any of you or I swear your face will accidentally meet with my fist repeatedly.”

His threat was met with another round of snickers. They wouldn’t be letting him live this one down for a long time … threat or no threat … it was just too good to pass up needling him.

“Six, take point,” Jason ordered as they all stowed their water, gripped their weapons, and prepared to move out.

* * *

_**Quito, Ecuador – Aeropuerto International – Bravo Plane** _

“Good copy, passing Piranha.” Eric caught Mandy smiling as she marked off the step for him on the whiteboard. Bravo team had chosen the deadliest animals in the jungle as code names just to mess with Quinn’s head. He wouldn’t tell many people, but he enjoyed the antics of this team more than he should.

His CO would surely cringe with the informal and lax demeanor he displayed when among the men he led. Officers were to maintain distance socially from the enlisted personnel under them, supposedly to reinforce the chain of command. But Eric never bought into that quixotic crap. Men followed leaders they respected much better than those who played the ‘I’m above you, and you will follow my orders’ game.

The men of Bravo were family, and they were more open with him if he relaxed on some things … like haircuts, uniforms, and a myriad of other little things which made the lives of his men better. The easy comradery allowed him to understand them and in the long run, kept everyone safer. Eric’s main goals were to complete their missions with all of his guys coming home alive and unharmed.

He sighed … the latter he failed on many times since Clay joined. Eric couldn’t pinpoint exactly what changed in the team’s missions, but something niggled in the back of his head that they ended up with the worst of the ops. It could simply be that they were the best of the elite teams with skills other teams only wished they possessed, but at times he got an inkling it had something to do with them choosing Spenser. Eric’s thoughts were interrupted as Mandy spoke.

“Something isn’t sitting right with me. All intel I gleaned indicated Quirós’ men would follow, and they didn’t.” Mandy sucked in her bottom lip as she chewed on the quandary. “Not that I want them to encounter hostiles … but this doesn’t fit the profile.”

Eric’s stomach clenched and rolled and it had nothing to do with the questionable quesadilla he ate last night. “You thinking setup, trap, or something else?”

“Not sure. I’m going to speak with my contact.” Mandy started to exit the plane but stopped when Blackburn called to her.

“Wait. Don’t want you roaming around Quito without protection if this is some sort of setup. Take Derek and John with you.” Eric prepared for Mandy to become quarrelsome at his suggestion but was surprised when she only nodded in agreement.

His hand went to his stomach as it rolled again, a queasy feeling growing. _Perhaps this is related to the quesadilla … I really shouldn’t be eating local cuisine._ Eric went to his pack and rummage around for his bottle of antacid and popped the chalky chewable tablets in his mouth.

* * *

_**Jungle** _

On point, Clay moved through the thick growth, his boots sinking a little as they traversed the rain-soaked quagmire. Sonny hated jungles, and Clay was beginning to agree with him. They traipsed through the rain for the last hour and now the heat of the day combined with the humidity created a steamy sauna causing his clothes to stick to him.

The bugs were relentless. Even with bug spray, the mosquitos were eating him alive. Clay slapped his neck again as he felt something bite him. They had hours to go, and he couldn’t wait to get on the helo and out of this damned jungle. The silence of his brothers behind him indicated they agreed. This mission sucked even though they snagged their HVT with little resistance.

Sonny followed Clay, his backside awash in pain. The ointment only served to keep his body heat in and he was certain he would have a rash of epic portions in addition to the multitude of pinholes caused by the fucking quills. He stumbled on a log, and his hands landed in the soft boggy dirt, but he managed not to plant his face.

“I hate friggin jungles. Logs and roots and shit … a bunch of trip hazards in addition to all the things that can kill ya.”

Brock stopped and lent Sonny a hand. “Beginning to agree.” His eyes spied movement and yanked Quinn backward, running into Ray and Quirós.

“What the hell?” Ray said as he picked himself up.

Sonny eyed Brock quizzically.

Brock sucked in a breath and pointed to the massive anaconda slithering across their path, which he and Sonny had initially mistaken for a log.

“Holy shit!” Sonny took several steps back, bumping into Trent, his insides flip-flopping making him queasy.

“Six, hold up a moment. Apparently, we’re at a snake crossing,” Jason grinned as Sonny shivered and bent over with his hands on his thighs and took several deep, panting breaths.

“Three is making friends with all the indigenous wildlife. Not sure which I’d rather tangle with, a pissed off porcupine or Kaa.” Brock quipped.

“Kaa?” Trent asked.

“Name of the snake in Jungle Book.” Brock watched the enormous greenish boa constrictor undulate as it moved onward, glad it didn’t see them as prey … at least while they were standing and able to get away. Grateful they wouldn’t be spending another night here Brock released a slight chuckle.

“You watching kid movies now?” Sonny retorted.

“Spent some time with my niece and nephew … they wanted to watch the movie.”

“Live action or the original animation?” Ray queried.

“Animation … Baloo the bear is the best.” Brock grinned recalling the weekend he got to babysit his sister’s kids when she went out of town to attend the quinceañera for one of her friend’s fifteen-year-old daughter.

“Don’t go singing the bare necessities … your voice will startle all the animals. Wait, on second thought, sing, and drive everything away from us.” Sonny grinned, for a moment forgetting about his sore butt.

“I’m partial to King Louie,” Jason joined in the banter.

“Bagheera, the jaguar was always my favorite,” Ray added, thinking when they got back, he would watch the flick with his kids … maybe pop some popcorn, grab some candy and sodas, and have a real family night. Naima and his daughter would enjoy sharing the time together, and so would he.

The guys joked a little longer as they hydrated and waited for the snake train to go by. Jason was the first to recognize something was queer … off … not right. He peered to where Clay should be standing when he realized the kid had not joined in any of the conversations. “Six?”

Silence met his call. Jason raised his voice. “Six, status. Where the hell are you?”

His raised voice created a sense of dread and urgency in the pit of everyone’s stomach, especially when Clay didn’t respond.

Sonny was the first one to charge forward … snake be damned … he was not losing the kid again. Hot on his heels were Jason, Brock, and Cerb. Ray and Trent moved forward but at a slower rate as they maneuvered their still blindfolded target through the undergrowth.


	2. Quadros and Quicksand

_**Quito, Ecuador – Café** _

Mandy kept her eyes peeled for her contact, as John and Derek blended into the background. She wouldn’t admit to anyone, but being in Ecuador left her quivery. The last time she was here, Carlson abducted her, and she nearly got all of Bravo killed. When Blackburn told her to take the guys, she almost wanted to kiss him for sending her with protection.

As she sipped her iced cocoa with QimiQ whipped cream and snacked on Pão de queijo, a delightful baked cheese roll, she pondered again why Quirós’ men didn’t go after their leader. It just didn’t fit the profile. Spotting Medina Quadros, Mandy waved to her and smiled, acting as if they were friends meeting up for a mid-morning chat.

Quadros returned the smile, hurried over, and took a seat. “Oh, you ordered my favorites,” she spoke in Spanish, took a sip of the beverage, before switching to English to avoid most others in the quaint outdoor café from eavesdropping, “Why did you contact me?”

Following suit, Mandy used English. “Our friend, the one who doesn’t like to travel alone, well, he had no qualms about taking a trip without his entourage. I’m hoping you might be able to shed some light on why.”

Her face morphing into a quizzical expression as her brows scrunched together, Quadros shook her head. “That is quite odd. He always travels with at least twenty or more.”

“Indeed. We expected and planned for a large group, but only a few showed to his going away party, and none came with him.” Mandy hoped speaking in riddles would throw off any nosey bystanders who might comprehend English.

“Give me some time to check into things. I’ll contact you if I can determine why.”

“Thanks, but be quick, I need to alert the tour guides to any changes, and they are not too keen on surprises.”

Quadros nodded, pulled out her phone, pretended to read a text, then stood and returned to Spanish, “Oh no. I’m sorry, I must go … a quarrel broke out between my employees and one of them up quit. I’m needed in the office.”

“I understand. Go. We’ll chat later,” Mandy responded in Spanish. She remained a little longer, enjoying a few more of the Pão de queijo and finishing her cocoa. She paid the bill, made eye contact with Derek, and rose. Mandy strolled down the street, confident her escort followed. Three streets over, she got into the rear seat of the car and waited for John and Derek.

As they slipped in the front seat, Mandy placed a hand over her stomach, the queasiness she tried to suppress for over an hour increased. She hoped she wouldn’t embarrass herself by becoming sick in front of the guys. No such luck. “Pull over … now!”

Mandy barely made it to the curb before vomiting.

* * *

_**Jungle** _

Sonny came to an abrupt halt not too far from where he tripped over the snake. Unfortunately, Jason didn’t put the brakes on as fast and slammed into him … knocking both of them over the edge. They slid down the Goonies-like slide, both out of control on the unexpected steep muddy slope as they tumbled ass over tea kettle.

Brock managed, just barely to pull back on Cerb’s leash and avoid the same fate as Jason and Sonny. He couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped out … sure it was dangerous … but it was also damned funny. As his teammates landed at the bottom, Jason cushioned by Sonny, Ray and Trent appeared next to him.

“Whoa … some drop,” Ray stated the obvious.

“Get off, me!” Sonny grumbled after he spat out a mouthful of mud and shoved at Jason, who had the audacity to laugh as he rolled off and gained his knees.

Jason’s face like Sonny’s was caked in slimy mud and decomposing foliage, and reminded him of the mud facial Alana and Emma spent a fortune on last summer. It tickled his funny bone, and he couldn’t help but laugh. Rising, after several unsuccessful tries, his feet sinking into the boggy ground, Jason offered a mud-covered hand to Sonny. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sonny also struggled to stand in the slick muck and ended up back on his sore ass not once but twice, letting out a disgusted groan to cover the pain it caused his abused tush. The third time a charm, Sonny kept his feet and huffed, “Damned jungles,” as he tried to wipe off some of the crap sticking to his face.

All humor left Jason’s face as he spotted Clay. His boots squelched as he started forward only to halt as Ray called out, “Stop, you’re in quicksand.”

“Six. Hey, kid!” Jason shouted to the youngest member of his team not more than eight feet from him, who appeared to be chest deep in the quicksand with his head lolled forward and a trickle of blood running down his cheek.

Sonny backed up a few steps to terra-firma and reached out to Jason, pulling him out of the sucking bog. He stared at the equally muddy kid wondering how come he didn’t call out for help. He shook the question away for now, to focus on a more important one. “How we gonna get him out if he ain’t awake to grab a rope?”

Slip-sliding his way down to the bottom holding Cerb, Brock had already created a slipknot loop at the end of one of their long, nylon ropes. “I’ll lengthen Cerb’s leash. He is lighter and less likely to sink. He can nudge the loop around one of Clay’s hands, and we can rig a pulley to drag him out.”

Making it to the bottom, leaving Ray up top with the HVT, Trent peered out at Spencer. “What I want to know is why he is unconscious.”

“Might’ve hit his head on a rock if he took the fast way down like us,” Jason turned Sonny and unzipped his pack to grab another rope. “Gotta get him out first, though.”

Trent helped Jason prepare the pulley system because if any of them lost their grip while tugging, Clay might sink into the quagmire again. “We need to pull firm but slow, so we don’t dislocate his shoulder. Would be better if we could get the rope under his pits and around his chest, but I don’t see Cerb being able to accomplish that task.”

Brock knelt and patted Cerb as he held out the loop for him to hold in his mouth. “Okay Cerb, need you to take this to your boy and put it around his wrist. Go easy.” He showed him the end of the leash. “I got you so if you start sinking. I’ll pull you out. Understand?”

Sonny almost chuckled at the way Brock talked to Cerb like he was a human and could understand him, but didn’t … because quite frankly there were times, he sincerely believed the dog understood everything they said. And right now, the hair missile was the quickest method they had of getting Clay out of this damned quicksand.

“Woof!” Cerb took the line between his teeth, turned, and studied his path. Gingerly he tested the muck, his front paw sinking to his pastern, or what might be referred to as his wrist. He laid down and stretched out.

“What’s he doing?” Sonny asked.

Brock scratched his head. “Not certain. Cerb, go to Clay.”

Cerb turned his head back to Brock, met his eyes and ruffed before turning his gaze back to his boy. Keeping his body elongated, Cerb did a cross between a belly crawl and a swim as he made his way to Clay.

“I’ll be damned. Cerb is one smart pooch. He is spreading out his weight, so it is harder for him to sink.” Jason and the rest of the guys stared as Cerb carefully maneuvered himself towards Clay.

They were further surprised when Cerb didn’t loop Clay’s wrist as instructed, but managed to work the loop up one arm, over his head and then mouthed Clay’s other arm moving it through the loop too, then tugged the line until it was under both armpits, providing a more secure and less potentially damaging link to Clay.

When he finished, Cerb began his slow trek back to Brock. “Woof, bark, bark.” _I understood you perfectly, Brock. You can now pull our boy out without hurting him._

Brock hugged Cerb to him when he reached stable earth, scratched behind his ears, and rubbed some of the muck off his underbelly. “Smart boy. Owe you a steak.”

 Sonny and Jason pulled the line steadily, the quicksand at first not wanting to release its captive, but eventually Clay’s body moved, and in short order, Trent and Brock reached for the straps of his pack on his shoulders to drag Clay to solid ground.

“SHIT!” Trent yanked his hand back as one terrifyingly huge spider crawled out of Spenser’s collar and scurried towards Sonny.

Everyone expected their spider-phobic Texan to either scream like a girl or shoot the arachnid with a six-inch leg span and a body length of almost two inches which charged in his direction. Instead, Sonny’s boot landed with a satisfying crunch as he smashed the object of many nightmares.

As Brock rolled Clay to his back, since he had been pulled out with his face dragging in the muck, Jason eyed Sonny with surprise. “Thought you would shoot it.”

Quinn's body quivered. “Done making friends with the wildlife. That thing was in the kid’s shirt … might’ve bitten him. Deserved to die, but I couldn’t blow it away ‘cause we might need to know what kind it is … specially cause Quicksand Boy ain’t conscious.”

Trent began to triage Clay. He checked his airway, found it open and stable with good breath sounds. The cut on his forehead turned out to be minor, wouldn’t even require stitches or glue. Like the rest of them, he was covered in bug bites, but nothing accounted for his insensate condition.

He rose to take a look at the smashed spider, aware some were venomous. Trent stood and turned to Jason. “I’m not an arachnologist, and we need that identified … might be the reason Six is out. I need to know if it is dangerous and what symptoms and treatments are required if it bit him.”

Jason pulled out his phone and snapped a photo. He keyed his comms. “Bravo One to Havoc.”

“Good Copy, go ahead,” Blackburn said as his stomach turned again.

“Six is unconscious. Sending a picture. Need someone to identify the spider and give Four details if it poisonous.”

“Venomous,” Trent corrected. Poisons are ingested, venom injected. He tuned out Jason’s conversation as he searched Clay for puncture marks correlating to the size of the mouth, and as he did so, Clay’s eyes fluttered open. “Hey, there you are.”

Clay blinked several times, unsure why he was flat on his back staring up at Trent. This position was beginning to get old. The last time was when he passed out on the plane after rescuing Katie.

Sonny crouched next to Clay and put a hand on his shoulder to hold him down as Clay tried to rise. “Not so quick. Hold still a moment.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Trent questioned.

Clay took in the mud-covered face of Sonny, noting dead leaves and twigs sticking to his hair and realized he must not be the only one to take a header down the mud slide. “Um … feeling queasy, hot, miserable, turning back to peer at Sonny when he tripped, then my foot hitting nothing, falling, hitting my head. Couldn’t figure how to climb back up here so walked a few feet to assess the area, and began to sink. Realizing I was in quicksand … then, um, waking here.”

He pushed up, still feeling fatigued, but not enough to fall asleep without warning. Clay glanced at Cerb who sat off to the side with what he might call a quirky smile as Brock petted him.

“You still feeling queasy?” Trent queried.

“Yeah. Stomach is doing quick flips, and my head is pounding like crazy. Got some aspirin?”

Trent pulled out his temporal artery thermometer … not standard issue, more expensive than the regular one, but considered a necessity by Dr. Irving and Trent with Spenser on Bravo, so approved for his med kit. A swipe across Clay’s forehead revealed the kid had an elevated temp. “Any other symptoms?”

Clay licked his lips. “Got a metallic taste in my mouth, and I’m achy.”

Sonny slapped a mosquito on his hand. “Kid catch malaria?”

Trent shook his head. “Doubtful. Symptoms match, but the incubation period is seven to thirty days, and we’ve been in country only two. Think you can stand?”

Clay nodded. “Yeah.”

Jason took a knee, bracing himself on Clay’s shoulder. “Hold up. They identified the spider. Phoneutria, venomous. The neurotoxin causes loss of muscle control, breathing problems, priapism, and intense pain and inflammation at the bite site.”

“What the hell is priapism?” Sonny asked.

It was not a laughing matter, but Trent grinned despite himself as he said, “A condition in which a penis remains erect for hours in the absence of stimulation.”

Clay paled, and his eyes dropped to his groin, Sonny laughed, Brock smirked, and Jason patted Clay’s back.

“Don’t think you need to worry about that unless you were bitten somewhere, I didn’t see. Any excruciating pain?”

“No. Wait? What spider?”

“The huge-assed one that crawled out of your shirt after we pulled you out of the quicksand. It’s over there if you want to check it out.” Brock pointed to Clay’s left. “Sonny squashed it.”

Clay’s brows arched. “He didn’t shoot it?”

“Couldn’t, little buddy. If the damned thing bit you, we needed to know if it could kill you.” Sonny stood, his butt on fire still, and he rubbed it trying to relieve the pain. "Can't get out of this damned place soon enough."

Jason turned to Trent. “He good to travel?”

“Yeah, not on point, though. Running a fever … need him in the middle to keep an eye on him.” Trent handed a bottle of water and a couple of pills to Clay. “Might be the flu or a cold … only piece which doesn’t fit is the metallic taste. If you start feeling worse or any other symptoms crop up you tell me.” He gave Clay a stern eye.

“Got it.” Clay rose with the help of both Jason and Sonny, and that is when he noticed the rope around his chest. “How’d you get this on me? Sonny lasso me like a steer?”

“Nope. That’s all Cerb.” Brock beamed with pride.

“Thanks, bud.” Clay gave Cerb a quick scratch and a couple of pats. He peered up the ravine as Ray tossed down another line which he secured to a tree. Climbing seemed almost too much of a challenge at the moment, but he would suck it up … he wouldn’t allow a stupid, little cold to bring him down. He did his best to ignore and quell the need to puke as he gripped the rope and began to haul himself up the ravine.

Clay made it to the top, just in time to drop to his knees and expel the contents of his stomach. What surprised him is Sonny joined him in the vomit-fest. Trent scanned both with the temporal thermometer when they finished heaving, noting both possessed fevers.

As Trent assessed Sonny’s symptoms, Jason leaned on a tree, placing a hand on his abdomen as it rolled, a metallic taste forming in his mouth as bile started to rise. _Ah, crap … how much worse can this day get?_   He was bending over the bushes the next moment, ralphing.


	3. QRF, Quarantined, and Quadfecta

_**Aeropuerto International – Bravo Plane** _

Eric spent the last fifteen minutes praying to the porcelain god, though in this case, it was a utilitarian metal toilet. He slumped to the floor of the plane’s latrine and wiped the snot from his nose and spit again into the bowl. Sweat trickled down his face, and he felt miserable, his muscles aching. “Damned food poisoning. Bet it was the quesadilla last night.”

Knocking, hating to disturb the lieutenant, Petty Officer Dale Quincy, Davis’ replacement for this mission, called out, “Sir, we have a problem.”

 _No shit._ Blackburn forced himself to his feet, his head pounding. “A moment.”

“Sir, I’m not sure what to tell Bravo,” Quincy continued not heeding his CO.

Flushing the evidence of his meals, which tasted better going down than up, Eric yanked open the door in no mood to deal with the non-Davis logistics guy. He already missed her … though she would make a damned fine officer. “What’s the issue?”

Quincy gaped at the officer, noting his sweaty face and a few traces of what might be vomit on his shirt. “Are you sick, Sir?”

Doing his best not to show how crappy he felt, Eric pushed out of the room to the sink, needing to rinse his mouth. “Tell me what’s wrong with Bravo.”

“I didn’t say anything was wr…” Quincy trailed off when Blackburn glared at him. He stepped back, realizing how this man came to command the elite team. He should’ve listened to his buddies who said Lieutenant Commander Blackburn was a force to be reckoned with … he had to be to the quarterback and to tame the infamous Master Chief Hayes.

“Um, yeah … well, the 2IC—”

“Perry.”

“Yeah, well, Perry called in to say four of the men are down.”

“Down? What are their injuries? What hostile force did they encounter? Did Quirós’ men follow or come at them from a different direction?” Eric scanned the plane wishing he had not sent Derek and Full Metal with Ellis. With four of Bravo down, he needed to arrange a QRF and fast.

“Sir, um down might be an overstatement … um more like, well, throwing up.”

“Who?” Eric figured Jason to be one if Ray was making contact.

“One, Three, Four, and Six.”

“Shit. Trent’s ill too.” Eric rinsed his mouth, splashed water on his face, raked hands through his hair, slicking it back to dry them. “Perry give any indication of what they’re dealing with besides puking. What did he request?”

“He, well, wanted to say he didn’t think they would make it to the exfil location in time. Wanted to know if there was another option to retrieve them sooner. Three and Six are running high fevers in addition to upchucking. He’s not sure they can hike out. Everything went downhill fast is what he said.”

“What about the spider? Six bitten?”

“Perry didn’t say.”

Eric strode to the comms area needing more information. Just as he picked up the mic, Derek trotted up the ramp.

“Blackburn, we got a problem.”

 _Another one?_ Eric sighed. “What?”

“Ms. Ellis … she’s real sick. Can’t stop hurling, sweating, and is hot to the touch. She is suffering from stomach pains and a headache too. John’s carrying her from the car.”

“Have Dennis check her. Bravo is in the same boat … might need to drop you guys in to assist.” Eric leaned over and panted to quell his nausea.

“You don’t look so good yourself, sir.” Derek slid a chair close to Eric and pushed him into it.

“Been better.” Eric spied John with Mandy in his arms. Her hair plastered to her head, and her face pale. “What the hell is going on? Until we figure this out, consider Ellis and myself quarantined. Quincy, break out the masks for everyone else to wear.”

The petty officer turned to do as instructed.

John strode over to Blackburn after putting Ellis on a gurney. “Sir, Dennis said Bravo is sick too. What can I do to help?”

Dropping the mic, Eric bent over and began heaving again, but they were dry-heaves now. Alpha One, as senior rank, took over. John had Derek take Blackburn to the back next to Mandy. He communicated with Ray, got the sitrep from him, provided details of what was occurring in Havoc, and told them to sit tight as he worked on a way to extract them.

* * *

_**Jungle** _

Clay curled up on the jungle floor, sharp pains stabbing his gut and his breaths coming in short quick pants as his body quivered with chills while he sweated bullets. Whatever the hell this was, because no way was this a cold, he wanted to die to end his misery.

With bleary eyes, Clay’s vision not as keen as it should be, he peered at Jason who lay next to him, noting he was not the only one a quaking mess. Witnessing the pain lines etched deep in his team leader’s face, Clay could almost swear he heard the drums playing in Jason’s head in concert with those in his own.

He rolled to his other side, unable to witness the mighty Jason Hayes felled by whatever ailed them, only to be presented with an equally disturbing image … Trent on his knees, puking his guts out. They were up the proverbial creek not only without a paddle but without a fucking boat too. The shit was hitting the fan worse than their previous mission when they and Alpha Team were literally knee deep in sheep dung … not a pleasant op.

With only Ray and Brock still on their feet, currently not showing any signs of illness, Clay wondered how long it would be before they were all incapacitated. He glanced at Quinn, his worry escalating. Before Trent succumbed, he started an IV on Sonny, who passed out … perhaps like what happened to him in the quicksand and what he wished would occur now … just to escape the pain.

Brock crouched beside Clay and lifted his head. “Drink.”

“Can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Now take a sip.” Brock tipped the water bottle to Clay’s lips and let a little dribble in. “Good. Gotta stay hydrated.”

Clay swallowed, hoping it stayed down. The mere act of Brock lifting his head fatigued him … and his wish came true … his eyes rolled back and he blacked out.

“Crap! The kid is out now too.” Brock shifted on the balls of his feet to peer at Perry who was checking Quinn’s temperature again. “How long did Full Metal say it would take to get to us?”

“Didn’t, said he would do his best, but with Blackburn and Ellis down, he’s missing Davis’ skills. Quincy doesn’t have her magic at procuring what we need before we need it.” Ray blew out a breath as he stood. The heat of the mid-day getting to him as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

He glanced at their HVT. He tied Quirós to a tree when Sonny dropped and things went to hell. The man remained quiet the entire time … almost too quiet and it gave him an uneasy sense of dread. As if Quirós might be aware of what befell his team.

Ray considered the mission thus far. They reached the compound where Mandy’s contact said Quirós would be. They couldn’t confirm anything with ISR, not that it had not been authorized, but because the thick jungle canopy prevented a view to the buildings.

Based on intel, there were four buildings. They broke off in pairs, Jason and Clay, Sonny and Trent, him and Brock with Cerb. The first two teams came up empty in their search, But Cerb alerted Brock and him to Quirós and everyone converged on their location. They took out five hostiles who tried to protect Quirós, and apprehended him without much effort.

They high-tailed it out, expecting more of Quirós’ men to flood out of the fourth structure after the gunfire … but no one followed. Which he had initially given thanks for, but now wondered why especially with how fast his teammates became sick.

* * *

_**Helo** _

Full Metal glanced at Major Espinosa, glad for the support and the man’s ability to quickly get him a helicopter capable of evacing Jason and his team. Bravo saving the Ecuadorian major’s life when Carlson went rogue and participated in an attempted coup, meant Espinosa was more than willing to assist.

“Almost there.” Espinosa shouted to the American SEAL after receiving word from the pilot. The men set to work rigging the stokes to the hoist, this would be easier than hauling them up by hand, though if it came to that, John would use every ounce of his energy to save his brothers.

Derek and Dennis gave John a thumbs up, both ready to fast line through the small break in the canopy. Dennis, Alpha’s medic would triage the men down below while Derek helped Brock and Ray to load them one by one into the stokes so they could be brought aboard.

* * *

_**Next Day – Virginia – Naval Base – Quarantine** _

A seldom used building near the airfield had been a hornet’s nest of activity even before Bravo’s plane touched down and taxied next to it. The quarantine facilities geared up under the direction of Dr. Irving, preparing to receive eight severely ill elite SEALs, their commander, one CIA agent, and an HVT.

All presented with nausea, vomiting, stomach pains, chills, muscle aches and weakness, headaches, and fatigue. Several suffered high fevers, and three, Jason, Clay and the HVT also reported a metallic taste and changes in their vision and speech. Spenser and Quinn appeared to be in the most critical condition, neither regaining consciousness since they became insensate in the jungle.

In a quandary, since the symptomology could be several things, many contagious, Dr. Irving ordered everyone in the plane, including the flight crew, and the aircraft itself quarantined. The ill were moved to the specialized medical care unit and the non-sick or symptomless in another area for observation until they figured out what they were dealing with.

Irving sat at his desk outside a full glass window giving him view into the individual glass-walled rooms of Jason, Ray, Sonny, Trent, Brock, Clay, Derek, Dennis, Eric, Mandy, and Mr. Quirós. He blew out a breath as he reviewed the toxicology reports on the monitor searching for a common factor.

Dr. Lucien, affectionately called Dr. Death by the men of Bravo, approached Irving with the latest blood serum reports, wanting to deliver them personally. These men he liked and jumped at the chance to help. “Brought news regarding Hayes, Spenser, and Quirós.”

“What did you find?”

“You are right, the symptoms cross many things, but a metallic taste reminded me of something I studied a few years ago. They’ve been exposed to quicksilver.”

“Mercury?”

“Yes. Although a liquid at room temperature, quicksilver vaporizes into the air and can be a by-product of burning coal for power. Mr. Quirós shows a significant level, and although Hayes’ and Spenser’s levels are minuscule in comparison, they must’ve been exposed to a high concentration, likely inhaled, which caused an acute reaction.

“Treatment for our guys in addition to the decontamination they had upon arrival will be to avoid consumption of seafood which may contain mercury and observation. I do not foresee any long-term issues for them given the limited exposure.

“However, Mr. Quirós is not so lucky. We should start chelation therapy to bind the heavy metals in the bloodstream, but I suspect his kidneys are already shutting down and he will require dialysis to live.”

Irving accepted the printouts from Lucien as he said, “We should test the rest of the team too, but mercury poisoning does not account for many of the symptoms.”

“Already did. They showed no sign of quicksilver exposure. So you are right. We’re dealing with more than one thing here.” Lucien took a seat, and the two doctors began to discuss potential causes.

* * *

_**Two Days Later – Naval Base – Quarantine** _

Eric entered the common room of his men after being held in isolation for the last three days. The nurses and doctors entering his room had to wear gowns, gloves, and masks to prevent passing on the infection and becoming Typhoid Mary … not that he contracted typhoid, but the commonplace _Salmonella enteritidis_ , seen back in the States every summer. Most likely from the questionable quesadilla, which would change his habit of eating local cuisine.

Jason sat up, glad his vision had cleared, and nausea had abated. “How are you feeling, Eric?”

“Bout as good as any of you. We’re off rotation for at least another four weeks.” Eric took a seat, still a little fatigued.

“How’s Mandy doing?” Jason queried.

“Still not up to par. Malaria threw her for a loop. They’ve got her on medication, and she’ll be off for several weeks too.” Eric scanned Brock, Trent, Ray, Derek, and Dennis, who were playing cards at a table. “The boys doing okay being cooped up here?”

Jason nodded. “For the most part. Doc said he would release those five and me tomorrow. He wants to keep Sonny and Clay for a few more days due to their combined issues.” He raked a hand through his hair as he peered at the two who were still sleeping.

Eric nodded. “This hit them both harder than the rest.”

“Yeah, Doc figured they had greater exposure to the Q fever bacterium in New South Wales than the rest of us when Clay helped Sonny deliver that lamb. Irving correlated our mission there three weeks ago to a significant outbreak in the region.

“Almost want to make Sonny run hills for his stunt … but, well, his heart was in the right place, and Clay was roped into helping the big lug. And they would’ve been infected anyway when we all ended up having to take cover in that field filled with sheep dung.”

Eric sighed. “This is surely one for the history books. A quadfecta of issues. Me with food poisoning, Mandy with malaria, you and Clay with quicksilver exposure, and all of Bravo, plus Dennis and Derek coming down with Q fever.”

Jason’s gaze landed on Sonny. “Don’t forget about the infection and rash Quinn got on his ass due to the quills.”

A slight snicker erupted from Eric. “Not an injury Quinn’s gonna live down anytime soon.”

Turning his attention to Blackburn, Jason became serious. “Were you able to figure out why we encountered so little resistance when grabbing Quirós?”

“Yes. Got a report this morning. It appears Quirós was aware of his failing kidneys due to the mercury. He leaked his whereabouts, realizing the U.S. wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to capture him. He counted on exchanging his knowledge for medical care … namely dialysis and a chance for a kidney transplant.”

Jason scowled. “Tell me he is only going to get dialysis … that scum doesn’t deserve a transplant.”

“Unknown … out of our hands. You boys did your job.” Eric stood. “Get some rest and enjoy some quality time with your kids for the next few weeks.” Eric moved to each of the guys, thanking them for a job well done, but he didn’t disturb Sonny or Clay … he would talk with them later.

As he left, Eric shook his head. _What a quixotic mission and set of circumstances._

* * *

_**Four Weeks Later – Bravo Cages** _

“HA, HA, VERY FUNNY! WHICH ONE OF YOU IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS?” Quinn bellowed as he stared at his cage with disbelief on his first day back on base after a relaxing four-week break … one he needed to recover his strength after contracting Q fever.

Everyone snickered as they shook their heads, not claiming responsibility for the state of Sonny’s cage.

Sonny unlocked his door and swung it open, causing stuffed porcupines, lambs, and long, green snakes to spill out. The entire cage crammed to the rafters with the plush toys.

“I’m gonna find out, and then you’ll be sorry you messed with this Texan.” Sonny started chucking the animals at the others full force, which instigated a free-for-all.

A room full of full-grown, bad-ass SEALs, laughing and behaving like boys in an all-out plush toy fight greeted Eric when he came to notify Bravo they were needed in the briefing room in two hours to review a new package Mandy brought for them.

Eric chuckled, pivoted, and left them to their fun … Quinn would never figure out he was the one who arranged to fill his cage … with a little help from Davis who also supplied him the name of a charity who would be happy to receive the stuffed toys after Bravo was finished throwing them at each other.

 

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize this one is shorter and a bit different, and I didn't do the whole recovery thing, but this just felt right for the ending. Hope you enjoyed. Now to refocus on my novel for a week or so as ideas for AI-R percolate in my mind.


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